Sinful Pleasure
by Greenangelwings
Summary: When making her rounds, Minerva finds a student out past curfew. While attempting to rouse the Gryffindor from slumber thoughts plague her mind and she decides to do something for herself for once. HGMM. Terrible at summaries. Read and Review.


AUTHORS NOTE: Alright, this happens to be my very, very, very first Harry Potter fanfic ever. I apologize for any spelling or grammar errors, although I'm pretty sure there's little to none in here. If there are, I again say sorry. Also, if the character's are a out of character I also say... sorries, didn't't mean it!

Anyway, if you haven't stopped reading by now--I congratulate you for surviving my banter! I hope you wont be too harsh on me, the pairing is HG/MM and if you don't like then for gods sake don't _read!_

I suppose you could call this a little AU, but honestly what fanfiction isn't?

**_LET'S START THE STORY NOW, WHAT'DA SAY?_**

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It was closing to curfew, the Professor of Transfiguration noted as she made her rounds. All students must be accounted for, numbered and filed all into their common rooms, asleep in their beds or huddled together in one bed or floor, whispering of secrets and rumors, and the occasional rant of dislike for a teacher. 

She herself was tired from the day's activates and was looking forward to curling up in her warm chair in front of the fireplace with a good book and maybe a spot of tea and a ginger cookie. The opened doors of the library came to view, and she slipped inside. Her emerald eyes glanced around briefly. No one seemed to be there, but then why was the door opened? Perhaps the librarian had forgotten to close up? It seemed unlikely, so she strode about the tall shelves of books, looking this way and that.

She had smelled her scent before she saw her, the thanks going to long since past integration of her animagus senses with her human body.

Asleep, slumped between a wall and a bookcase, the Gryffindor's head tilted upwards against the stone wall, in what would surely be a very stiff neck after sleep left her and a sore back to-boot. Her lips ever so slightly parted, and her chest softly rising and falling signaling life. The book once vigorously studied and parchment where notes had been written laid scattered on the floor, fallen from hands as the body had gone limp in unconsciousness.

The Teacher's heart swirled with pride at her star pupils extra efforts at her studies, and a brief reminder of long ago school days filled her head she chuckled. With soft footsteps she walked closer to the sleeping girl who wore the Gryffindor colors. Her emerald eyes watched the amusing, yet adorable scene. She outstretched her hand, brushing away a stray brown curl away from the little angel's face. A cord struck in her heart, angel, yes, little—most definitely not.

The seventeen year old who had once been the innocent, yet fiery, star student young girl of Hogwarts had turned into a beautiful, young woman with an equally grown passion for Magic and Knowledge. The Teacher sighed softly, it seemed as the young woman's intelligence, heart and soul grew so did that little voice in the back of her head telling her to back up and resume the standard student-teacher distance. She had tried, she really had, but a friendship with the young witch her heart so secretively and desperately longed for was far too tempting.

"Miss Granger," she spoke in her thick Scottish accent. The girl made no movement, no sign that she had heard her. She gently tapped her shoulder, "Miss Granger, wake up." But, alas, no movement did the Head Girl make.

_The poor thing must be exhausted,_ Professor McGonagall thought as she knelt down. She felt her heart skip a beat when she came closer to her favorite student. Her eyes, although she fought, stared at the pink lips of Miss Granger's mouth, entranced by their simple, yet profound beauty.

"Miss Granger," she said louder, more so for her own sake than her student. "Wake up, the library is closed." Still Hermione didn't move, and it was becoming harder and harder not to notice the brunette's exposed neck.

It was late, she should have dragged her stubborn, beautiful charge back to the common rooms, and she knew she should have. But, her hands had other plans as they gently caressed the young witch's flushed cheek, her eyes never leaving those lips.

She attempted to think of something else, to distract herself, but all she could think was:_her lips seem so soft, I wonder how they would feel against my own. _

Thoughts of the coming year briefly entered her mind, and memories of past opportunities as these that had slipped by her. In just another year, her beloved student would be gone, and never again would she be able to have her weekly tea with her, or talk to her in her office, or teach her, or secretly be able to caress her cheek. Her eyes stung at the thought, she valued their friendship more than words could possibly describe. Of course she hoped Hermione would send the occasional Owl, possibly visit once in a blue moon, but somewhere in her heart knew that the young witch would have no time for such things. Her career would skyrocket—whatever her favorite pupil choose to do, she knew this, and although she was proud, she dreaded it all the same.

Minerva attempted to gently shake Hermione awake, but with no luck, and she smiled bitterly. At this rate she would have to call the school nurse for some smelling salts. The poor thing probably wouldn't wake up even if someone kissed her.

And as the thought crossed her mind, she paused in her motions.

It was always said that students should make lasting memories in their ending years of school, mostly by doing crazy, ill advised things or fulfill goals left undone previously, or make a secret memory for themselves involving a crush. But who was to say that the Professors couldn't make some memories of their own? A memory, a fulfillment of desire, something just for herself and no one else—just this once, in the dimly lit library of Hogwarts. Selfish, yes, but she felt an odd sense of deserving—no—_needing_ to be selfish. And for the first time in her entire life, she choose her needs over anyone else's.

She leaned close, her eyes intently watching the young witch's face for signs of awareness, when none showed she closed her eyes.

_Just one time, I want to feel her lips just once, to make a memory for myself with her. Let the consequences be damned—just this time._

And slowly, ever so slowly their lips met in a tender kiss. It was brief, although it felt like hours, and it was gentle and tender, but it was one of the most electrifying and tender feelings she ever experienced in a kiss before. She forced her trembling body to pull away, despite the want and need she felt. Her darkened eyes showed the desire, the lust, and the love that she felt in her heart, never to be shown to another mortal being, Muggle, or Witch or Wizard.

Her sinful pleasure made her smile, and she raised her hand to her lips, but dared not make contact for fear of loosing this wonderful feeling. For a moment she forgot why she was sitting in the library with a sleeping Hermione slumped against the wall, other then for the kiss. Then, as the clock rung, she remembered. She calmed herself, but despite her best efforts she couldn't hide that smirk.

"Miss Granger, wake up!" She said, and firmly—but gently—shook the brushy brown haired young woman.

"Hmm what? What, oh, Professor McGonagall," Hermione yawned and sat up, cringing when her head bent and her neck yelled at her. "What time is it?"

"It's almost past curfew," Minerva said, her eyes unreadable, as was her expression other then a small, almost invisible smile upon her lips. She stood, and Hermione looked shocked she had dozed off for so long. "But, if you hurry I'll forgo taking any points from Gryffindor." Minerva added playfully. Hermione smiled, but gathered her things quickly and soon the two were off towards the Gryffindor common rooms.

Hermione couldn't explain the faint taste in her mouth, or the way her usually cold collected Professor of Transfiguration had a—dare she say it—bounce in her step that evening. But as she climbed into her bed, and snuggled into the blankets, dreaming sweet impossible dreams of kisses and caresses from her secret crush, she found she couldn't complain.

_**The End.**_

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_**AUTHORS NOTE: **_**reviews are always nice, let's me know how I'm doing. Please be nice though!**_**  
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